On the surface, nothing has changed since Brett Wallace made the move from ASU baseball star to wealthy minor league rookie.
Last weekend at Mesa’s Hohokam Stadium — where Wallace is among a select group of prospects playing in the Arizona Fall League — offered the scene for comparison.
The stands are empty, save for a smattering of PDA-toting, sabermetrically obsessed scouts. Their critical eyes fixed on Wallace, a paradigm for the subjectivity of their jobs. Well before the St. Louis Cardinals selected Wallace 13th overall in last year’s amateur draft, these traditional baseball men watched on.
At this point in October, Wallace has just four hits (one home run) in 24 at-bats. But with a day off and the easy atmosphere of the prospect-filled league, none of that seems to matter. What does: his pre-game routine in the batting cage. And that isn’t affected by the scouts incessant fixation on him.
“They’ve been there since high school. You’re used to playing in front of them [by now],” Wallace said. “Take it as an opportunity to show everyone what you can do but not worry about what they think or what they’re looking at.”
Wallace, infamous in scouting circles for his thick lower-half – they call it a "bad body" — leans forward on the netted cage, waiting for his turn before an AFL game last weekend.
“They’ve always followed him. You learn as a parent, not to worry about what the scouts are saying,” Brett’s mom, Patricia said. “You can wear yourself down.”
But after a historic Sun Devil career (2006-2008), Wallace’s early success in the minor leagues have left the scouts little to critique. Less than two months after leaving Tempe, one team victory away from the College World Series, Wallace found himself in AA, two levels shy of The Show.
For a mom who’s watched her son realize his dream, ¬— it started at the age of nine in Sonoma, Calif. — Patricia Wallace has seen Brett go from Tempe to Davenport, Iowa and Springfield, Mo., with St. Louis being the desired landing spot.
“For a mother, it’s a dream come true,” she said. “I’d love to see him get the opportunity to show what he can do [in St. Louis]. To see him take that field will be really exciting. [Until then], I have a lot of frequent flier miles.”
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During his tenure at ASU, Wallace was usually one of a few regulars called upon to answer post-game questions posed by reporters. His performances usually demanded it. But Wallace often dodged questions offered to any player willing to speak up. When he was addressed directly, the slugger gave the rehearsed laundry list of baseball clichés Crash Davis so carefully taught to 'Nuke,' the young hurler, in “Bull Durham.”
If you asked Wallace to look ahead, for example, he'd say, “the team is taking it one game at a time.” And now that he's in the midst of the transition so many fail at, if you asked Wallace if he's adjusted to hitting with wood bats, he'd say, “why change what got me here?”
But there is a different air about Wallace. The clichés still emanate from his wide grin, but he's more confident. More Brett.
That’s likely just by necessity, with an estimated 40 cameras surrounding him on draft day.
“College is kind of a secure place,” Patricia Wallace said. “When you become a pro baseball player, you’re out there on your own.”
ASU coach Pat Murphy said his former player grew into his shadowed persona at ASU.
“He’s an unbelievable human being,” Murphy said. “He knows his place … but he did talk a lot more in his sophomore and junior year than he did in his freshman year.”
If mom agrees, the polling for consensus is complete.
“He’s a no-nonsense type of guy,” she said. “He picked ASU [out of high school] … because you go out and you work hard. He’s very much like that on the field.”
Brett Wallace is also pretty serious in the classroom: He stands five classes away from receiving a degree from the W.P. Carey School of Business. With the Cardinals forking over his remaining scholarship money, Wallace has assured his mom he will graduate when his baseball schedule slows.
So Wallace arrived in Tempe in 2006, at the same time as his best friend. He the strong, silent type foiled by Ike Davis, the jokester.
“He’s quite a character,” Patricia Wallace said of Davis. “They’re very good friends, and I think it’s because they balance each other.”
But the scales may have been tipped in the pair’s final collegiate game. Before facing eventual CWS champ Fresno State in the NCAA super regional on June 9, Wallace and Davis fought behind the mound at Packard Stadium. At least, it appeared so.
Patricia Wallace, sitting in the stands, said she was aware the two players were asked to participate in the staged scuffle, which was propagated by the age of instant images and video.
Brett Wallace said the purpose was to loosen up their teammates – the NCAA publicly reprimanded the ASU baseball program for the stunt last week.
“People took it the wrong way,” he said.
The worst part was not advancing to the CWS, in what was widely-known as the both Wallace’s and Davis’ last season of amateur baseball.
“It hurt,” he said. “[But] you can’t script it … you just have to live with it.”
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Brett and Patricia Wallace were watching the broadcast of the June draft in their Phoenix condo, waiting to hear the family surname called. Brett's agent had been keeping everyone updated as to where he was likely to be snatched up. But that didn't make the situation any less tense.
"It was stressful,” Patricia Wallace said.
Though she also said hearing positive feedback from numerous general managers about her son's attitude and talent gave the family at least a bit of ease.
After he was drafted, Wallace received 189 text messages; the first, of course, was sent from Murphy.
Davis surely received one too, as he was selected 18th overall by the New York Mets.
“I’m grateful to be around these guys,” Murphy said. “You get to relish their best days.”
Brett Wallace then had 15 minutes to prepare for his first of a series of national media interviews and then a call with the Cardinals' front office. The attention continued in his first and second minor league stops. Luckily for Wallace, he said he has not been razzed by teammates for his multi-million dollar contract and new celebrity status.
"It hasn't been too bad," he said.
With the spotlight came the realization that professional baseball is a big step ahead from college. Three-game series each weekend with free time on weekdays just fails to exist in minor league baseball. Six-hour bus rides and living out of suitcases becomes the norm. The players just get used to the grind of it all.
“You just keep working hard," he said. "You play through fatigue and nagging injuries more because if you’re out three days [in the pros], you miss three games. Instead of [in] college, where you would just miss three practices.”
Not to mention the rising level of competition.
The scouring scouts never questioned Wallace's ability to hit. At ASU he did, in fact, hit .398, belt 45 career home runs (fourth best all-time) and win two Pac-10 Player of the Year awards.
The success continued in pro ball, where Wallace hit .337 with eight home runs, 16 doubles and 36 RBI in 54 combined games at two levels.
“Nobody dominated this game,” said Murphy, who likes to keep tabs on his former players. “[It] has a way of humbling you. It’ll knock down Brett at some point.”
The scouts were more concerned with Wallace manning the hot corner on defense. He played first base at ASU before moving to third base full-time his junior year, in part to accommodate Davis' move from the outfield to first base.
“Third base is always going to continue to be something I focus on to get better,” he said when asked about the scouts' questions.
But his offense and defense were impressive enough to retain his status of rising prospect. That, of course led to the invite to the AFL and its rising stars showcase, to be played Oct. 24 in Surprise. Wallace said he views the AFL experience as an important, necessary stop on the road.
“Getting to play against the best players in the minor leagues is pretty fun,” he said. “It challenges you everyday.”
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Wallace’s AFL teammates surround the batting cage as he readies to take his cuts. The left-handed masher in red scorches a home run over the right field fence. Then another and another. He finishes the first session with a long ball that clears the center field fence 410 feet away from the very home plate he crowds.
Maybe the only real difference — on the surface — is the sound of ball off bat.
Wallace retreats to the clubhouse and sits beside his locker on a metal folding chair. Dirty laundry and foul language fill the air. With the day off and minutes to spare before a hitters-only meeting, he unwraps his ready-made sandwich, spreading a mustard packet onto turkey and cheese.
Ah, the life of a college student turned minor leaguer.
Reach the reporter at apentis@asu.edu.
